Mazopolitik 2
by irk
Summary: The pregame festivities have ended, all the pieces are in place. Time for the real game to begin. [Dynast x Xelloss, Firia x Xelloss]
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a multi-part sequel to Mazopolitik, which is in ff.net's PG-13 section.   
  
* * *  
  
It had been quite a long night for Dynast.  
  
After leaving Xelloss in his bed to get some well-needed rest, Dynast had decided to hunt for a suitable dragon in the Rataart Mountains. After all, a true connoisseur of astral dragon cuisine knew that the Rataart dragons were best for mazoku dining. Since they were directly involved in the Kouma War, the dragons had lots of active hate and anger for the mazoku race. Such fringe emotions served to spice the taste of fear and pain when Dynast ate.  
  
The Supreme King's dining room had a collapsable torture table in it for a _reason_, after all.  
  
Such a meal was the best thing for Xelloss right now. Physical food was interesting enough, and tasted quite nice, but the sad fact of life was that dragon flesh tasted absolutely horrible. Humans might have their strange dining fads and atrocious exotic gourmet fare, but mazoku didn't fall for that nonsense. Dragons. Tasted. Bad. Anyone who said otherwise was just stupid.  
  
Besides, as lovely as it would be to share a physical meal with Xelloss, the boy had to get some nutrition. Negative emotion was what he needed, and Dynast would give him the best there was.  
  
Dynast fell upon a hapless Gold, musing on his choice of main course. Dragons weren't actually the pinnacle of emotional cuisine, really. Maybe he was just a little angry.  
  
As the first dragon fell from the sky under his assault, Dynast decided that was probably correct.  
  
Was he still jealous of Xelloss' girlfriend? The speed in which he took down the next dragon told him yes. Well, that did explain things, really. He wanted to kill these dragons because he wasn't going to allow himself to kill Xelloss' dragon. He'd promised to keep Firia alive, after all. Dynast wasn't about to break his promise. Xelloss had shown how loyal he was to Dynast, had told him to his face exactly how much he cared for the Lord. He had gone through a lot of pain for Dynast and had admitted that his love for Firia was wrong. The boy was honest enough to tell his master what he really felt. He shouldn't be held accountable when feelings that he didn't understand bled over into a relationship that Zelas never taught him was wrong.  
  
Dynast threw a volley of ice crystals into a black dragon's wingspan, watching the reptile flail in the air and then fall to the earth. He sighed. If only it had been a gold...  
  
That Firia. Dynast didn't understand what the emotional attraction was, but he had to admit that golds were often very pretty when they weren't stomping around as big hulking lizards. He tried to imagine touching one as gently as he touched Xelloss, only to be rewarded with flashes of scarlet blood staining his pristine sheets. Well, all the dragons in his bed had been bleeding from the very beginning. Dynast didn't understand. How did Xelloss care for one at all, much less embrace it with any tenderness?  
  
Dynast dove farther into the Kataart mountains, searching for clarity.  
  
Xelloss couldn't have been deluded enough to just fall for a dragon like it was nothing. She must have seduced him with more than just her body. They could be quite devillish, after all. She had been a priestess. She knew the heathen magic of dragon gods. Those damn things just had it in for mazoku. They probably taught all priestesses to snare the enemy into their silken bedsheet nets. Why kill the opposition when you could warp it into servitude? Of course. Xelloss had helped the dragon and her cohorts destroy Dark Star. Obviously he had been so tangled in the priestess' web that he would do her bidding without question. After all, why the hell would a mazoku help destroy a potential ally?  
  
Then again, Dark Star had been a little crazy. But that was just from Vorpheed's seduction. Perhaps Xelloss had been right in killing him after all. One lesser mazoku could be turned back to the proper path and be redeemed, and their straying to the opposite side could be forgiven. But an entire Dark Lord of Lords turned by a mere giant dragon? That was more than a little suspect. Dark Star probably wouldn't have been a worthwhile ally if he was as easily led as a servant-class mazoku. That Xelloss saw this even while under a dragon temptress' spell was a testament to the priest's abilities.  
  
Dynast sighed, strangling a gold on the ground slowly as he waited for more dragons to come to his aid. This one was in human form, and obviously weaker. Obviously it wasn't trained for fighting like the rest - probably it was just a wandering civilian. Dynast licked his lips. Maybe even a priestess. He really had to admit that he wanted Firia to die. It was a shame that he couldn't kill her. _But_, Dynast mused, clutching the dragon as it flailed for air, _sacrifices have to be made..._  
  
Suddenly, a beam of energy lanced through the air and into Dynast's side. He smirked and tossed the twitching dragon to the ground. A rescue party. How utterly charming.  
  
Dynast had his way with each of them, his blows not so much quick as just brutal. He kept a foot on the half-strangled dragon's back. This one he might just save for later. He had promised Xelloss that their meal wouldn't resemble Firia, and this little morsel was very unlike her in appearance. Plus, she wasn't as hardened by training and sparring as the others. He could probably yield more pain from a soft one. And if she was as docile throughout dinner as she was on the ground, it would be all for the better.  
  
_Hmm._ Dynast chuckled. The rescue party seemed to be dead. He hauled the maiden up into his arms, striding forward. "Now, if you don't struggle, and you stay quiet, I might just let you live through this." The dragon only trembled, almost frozen from fear. The mazoku smirked. "Good girl." He wound a thick coil of ice around her neck. "Now, I'm making this nice and loose for your poor sore neck. See? The ice will probably even help with the swelling. Isn't that nice? I'll keep being nice to you as long as you behave. But if you try to transform into your larger form, this collar will most likely strangle you to death." He tucked a finger into the space between ice and flesh, stroking her neck. "That would be unfortunate, wouldn't it?"  
  
The dragon nodded, tears streaming down her face.  
  
Dynast smiled at the response. "Good girl. Can you walk?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
The mazoku sighed. "Stupid dragons." The gleam of gold caught his eye. The sun was setting, casting rays of light out as it sank into the horizon. Dynast settled against the wall of a canyon and sat down on the smooth stone below. He held the dragon against his chest, stroking his fingers through the girl's wispy silver bangs. The cliffs ahead parted to give a narrow view of the sun as it winked out. Soon the pair were cloaked in the hazy blues and purples of twilight. Dynast drew the girl closer as darkness approached.  
  
Silence settled in the canyon, curling itself around the two as twilight faded into full shadow. Dynast sat there for a long time, gathering his thoughts and sorting them.  
  
In the darkness, in the silence, in this peace...he could almost imagine that the girl leaning against him was human, or possibly even a very low-ranked mazoku. Was that how Xelloss did it? Imagination?  
  
The mazoku slid his hand over the girl's cheek and against the tip of the girl's ear. It ended with a point, but it was small, subtle. Nothing as long as Firia's ears...  
  
Dynast slid the girl to the ground, laying on top of her. _Perhaps the trick,_ he thought, clamping his lips over hers, _is to pretend that elves aren't nearly as rare as we believe..._  
  
* * *  
  
Xelloss has crawled out of bed already. He has scratched his sigil into the floor and activated it, leaving Bishop behind. He has dragged himself into Firia's arms and fallen asleep, a little warmer than he was before and a lot safer.  
  
Edge knows nothing of this. He is only digging himself deeper into Xelloss' back, holding down his astral form and whispering into his mind.  
  
_Master Dynast deserves you, Xelloss. Why don't you give into him? I can feel your resistance. I can feel other things..._  
  
* * *  
  
"See?" Dynast ran his hands down the girl's body, palms still warm from spellwork. "I can make this feel good..."  
  
* * *  
  
_Oh, nonsense. Stop struggling. You know you've done this before._  
  
* * *  
  
"Ahh. There we are. See, isn't it easier when you give in? Almost like a dream..." Dynast guided the girl's hands as they undressed him.  
  
* * *  
  
_Oh, you poor dear. You really don't know what's happening to you, but that's okay..._  
  
* * *  
  
"...I can make it right." Dynast grinned as the girl moaned against him. "See?"  
  
* * *  
  
_That's good. There we are. I knew you could see reason, you twit._  
  
* * *  
  
Dynast cupped the girl's breasts in his hands. "I don't expect you to understand this."  
  
* * *  
  
_I don't even expect you to remember this._  
  
* * *  
  
"But right now, you're mine. And that's all that matters."  
  
* * *  
  
Firia has wrapped Xelloss up now, burying him in blankets and curling up against what she thinks is her son. Xelloss doesn't know what's going on in one plane or the other. He just knows that he's tired, and he's far away from Dynast. Edge only knows that he can do anything he wants until Dynast makes him give up his catch. He doesn't know that his _incarnar_ body is far away from Dynast's home. He doesn't know that he'll never see Dynast again.  
  
_Tired, are we? Very well. I suppose you can rest. You're mine for now anyways..._  
  
* * *  
  
Dynast buried a kiss in the sleeping dragon's hair. "At least it was interesting, pretending that you were something better than you are. But I still feel dirty." He sat up, dressing himself as the moon rose. "Perhaps Xelloss would disagree. Then again, while I think all dragons are the same, his viewpoint always seems to differ with mine. Either way, dinner is dinner." He snapped his fingers, sending the girl to a special room in his home that he fondly thought of as "the pantry". He then picked up his jacket and dusted it off. He had lain her on it in a flash of chivalry after she started to reciprocate. Dynast smirked. He'd never known that those spells worked on dragons. The results had almost been worth the overwhelming urge to bathe that now pervaded his senses.  
  
Maybe he and Xelloss could share her in..._other ways_...after they ate. He wouldn't mind cleaning his priest off.  
  
But that was the future. The present held within it a charging party of dragons who had found the cause of their missing and dead. Dynast braced himself, grinning. Did any of the lizards he'd hunted today even know what they were fighting? Probably not. He gathered destructive energy into his palm.  
  
Dragons were so loveably stupid.  
  
* * *  
  
It is well into the morning at a certain combination pottery shop and house. Firia is discovering that an unexpected guest is sleeping in her bed.  
  
It is well into the night where Lord Dynast lives. The Supreme King returns to his home, anticipating breakfast [and other meals] in _his_ bed.  
  
* * *  
  
Worry was not the first thing that came to Dynast's mind when he saw the empty bed. His mind never wanted to resort to the more realistic, pessimistic solutions. His first assumptions were that Xelloss had felt better, gotten up, and perhaps desired some wine. He didn't consider the fact that Xelloss had been in such poor condition for too long to recover this quickly. After all, everything was going so well. Xelloss was surely feeling better now that Dynast was accepting him into his service. Sickness, often enough, was a partially mental affliction. Being astral creatures, Mazoku were even more susceptible to hypochondria. With a better state of mind, Xelloss probably had a better state of health already.  
  
Dynast tsked at the rumpled covers and straightened them up. Xelloss was such a messy servant sometimes. That laid-back nature brought with it laziness and neglect for proper manners.  
  
Ah well. Training a servant was always half the fun.  
  
Xelloss had been through his King's home on many occasions. He'd know where the wine cellar was. Dynast ambled down towards the cavernous cellar, smiling. Wine would go well with their meal, and it would be pleasant to see Xelloss on his feet again.  
  
Dynast walked between row after row of bottle racks. He wasn't in this one? Perhaps he preferred a sweeter vintage. Maybe the priest was itching for something older. After all, considering his long-denied lust for Dynast, it was obvious the boy enjoyed the more experienced things in life.  
  
After a long search, Dynast realized that Xelloss wasn't in the wine cellar. He even checked for him mentally, with no success. The boy just wasn't here.  
  
Perhaps he had gone to the kitchen?  
  
Dynast's steps were a little quicker now as his impatience grew. He surveyed the kitchen. Not a soul in sight.  
  
...The King HAD left his servant alone for quite a while. Maybe Xelloss was seeking diversions in the library.  
  
Dynast ran to the library this time, getting restless and ansty as his search again came up with nothing. He vanished, darting from room to room, looking about anxiously for his lover. He teleported to the game room. The chessboard waited on the table, untouched for days and lonely from it.  
  
Was he missing a bishop?  
  
...What if Xelloss was _missing_?  
  
Dynast was frantic now, rushing into rooms, looking behind furniture, running through doors and checking over his shoulder each time. Where was his precious bishop? What if he had tried to move about and fell ill again? What if an intruder had come and found Xelloss alone and helpless? Would Dynast be able to find his servant through astral scans with Edge's interference scrambling the search? Would he be able to find him in this huge home at all?  
  
The search continued for hours. After Dynast came up with nothing, he searched again. When that came up fruitless, Dynast looked through his entire home yet again. Half a day later, he scrambled back into his bedroom.  
  
Where was Xelloss? He was nowhere! Was he hurt? Was he alive? What would Dynast do if he couldn't find him? He couldn't just abandon his love! Dynast paced, thoughts racing through his mind as he crossed the room over and over with wide, quick strides.  
  
His shoe rolled over something small and hard.  
  
Dynast flipped the object between his fingers quickly, his mind lunging for any clue to Xelloss' whereabouts. His fingers paused and his thoughts jerked to a halt as he realized what he was holding.  
  
"The bishop..."  
  
Dynast stood perfectly still, his eyes fixated on the quartz chesspiece. For several minutes, the chesspiece was the only thing that existed for him. Then, suddenly, he snarled and threw it down.  
  
As the carved figure tumbled towards the floor, it began to flow like water, growing and swirling. It resolved itself into the shape of a human boy right before it collided with the marble tiles below. The boy collapsed in a heap of flowing robes. He looked like he was thirteen, and he was small enough that the robes appeared to swallow him. He had fluffy white hair, cropped short in a bowl-shape around his head. His face was round, two milky white irises looking up from it in terror. Before he could speak, Dynast was on top of the boy, grabbing him by the collar of his robe and yanking him up.  
  
The boy squeaked in fear, unable to shrink away from the King. Dynast shook him, then wrapped his fingers around the boy's neck and restrained himself from squeezing hard enough to break it.  
  
"**WHERE IS HE**!?" Dynast's roar was so terrifying that the boy almost fainted.  
  
"I-I-I-I....I'm s-s-sorry, I'm SO sorr-" the boy's stuttered words were cut off as he was flung to the floor. Dynast stood over him, every muscle in his body strained. His face was a perfect study in fury.  
  
"TALK!"  
  
The boy sniffled, shaking. "I'm s-sorry, Lord D-Dynast! I helped him! I couldn't do anything else!" He rubbed his hands together in an attempt to calm their trembling. "He confided in me. He talked with me for weeks. I couldn't...I couldn't just not listen-I mean, how could I-I-I...I'm sorry!" He cringed, wiping a tear away with a huge bell sleeve.  
  
Dynast's breathing was fast and harsh, but his words were as smooth as the marble beneath them. He could almost fool an onlooker into believing he was calm now. "Go on."  
  
"I carved things for him. I put a dreadful hole in the battlefield." The boy's face darkened with shame. "I did whatever he commanded. Mostly I listened to his grievances. He wanted someone to talk to."  
  
"He had someone to talk to, you snit." Dynast's hand quivered in a fist at his side.  
  
"I'm sorry, Lord Dynast. He just kept talking. He wanted to leave so badly." The boy's eyes stared up at Dynast, pleading for forgiveness.  
  
The breath caught in Dynast's throat. "No he didn't. He didn't want to leave."  
  
The boy nodded, his voice calm with the knowledge that he was right. "Master Xelloss said that he hated it here. The white rooms frightened him and he was terribly lonely. He had no one to talk to, no one to tell him that it would be alright. He was afraid he'd never leave. He was desperate-"  
  
"HE WAS NOT!!" The wrath poured out through Dynast's voice in place of any physical harm he wished on the boy. The syllables came out as a shriek, a tonal strike at everything in the world that clashed with Dynast's own personal account of reality. It flowed like a maddened river, rough and harsh and powerful. When his words ended, the feelings rushed forth and thundered through his brain, toppling long-erected walls of denial.  
  
"He..." The boy's voice was small, thin, and hesitant. "Master Xelloss kept me close by to support him when he was alone, to carve for him when he despaired. He had me carve a sigil in the floor behind you. It took him away from here and then destroyed itself to leave no trace of his existence. He dropped me before he left. That's why I'm still here...Sir?" The boy looked up at his master. "Lord Dynast? Is...something wrong?"  
  
"Shut up." The words, tired and heavy, dragged themselves up from Dynast's chest and through his mouth. He squeezed his eyes closed. "Just...just shut..." He breathed, once, twice, three times. Dynast grabbed his head as if it would split open, fingers curling through blue and black hair. The pain from the pulling made something snap inside the mazoku that up until then had been stretched taut. His eyes flew open. "Shut up! Just shut up!" He kicked at the boy, going at it harder when the boy squealed in pain. "Shut up! Shut up!" He screamed at the world as his hands dug into his servant's robes and found arms and legs to hold down. "Shut up shut up shut up!" He beat the boy through a haze of tears and a flurry of limbs. The world crashed down around Dynast's ears. "JUST SHUT UP!"  
  
* * *  
  
Dynast slumped over in a chair, his hands supporting his head, his elbows on his knees. The levee had broken. After the floodwater had roared through his soul, all that remained was a flat, crumbled waste. All that was left for him was grief. He sat there, a sighing lump of desolation, not moving for an hour.  
  
The boy lay on the floor across the room, his eyes never leaving Dynast. He hadn't moved since the Lord had finally left him. He really didn't think that he could.  
  
Eventually, Dynast had to stop crying. When it finally came to that point, he sighed one last time. He looked up, his head rising slowly. "You called him Master Xelloss." When no answer came from his servant, he flicked his hand. A wave of energy coursed through the boy and healed his injuries.  
  
The boy curled up, feeling healthy but somehow sick. Perhaps it was because the room seemed so big all of a sudden, as if it were going to fall in around his head and crush him into dust. His voice was muffled but clear enough to be heard. "When I fell in combat, his soldier took me prisoner. As his property, I was his servant _and_ yours."  
  
Dynast nodded. He knew what the priest meant. He was used to the way that objects phrased things. Xelloss had taken that bishop around the time of the Kouma War. It was his until Dynast won it back by advancing a pawn. But since the white pieces were the Supreme King's property, he technically owned the bishop as well. So the piece's logic was certainly correct. "You serve both of us, but you serve me first."  
  
"Of course, sir." The boy's muffled voice rang with agreement.  
  
Dynast growled. "You betrayed me by helping him escape. But Xelloss has proven himself to be very convincing, so I will not hold you to it. I need your service now. Clean this place up. I'll fetch my shameless liar of a slave. Is he at his bitch's little hut?"  
  
"Y-yes sir." The boy slowly uncurled himself, ducking away from things that weren't there. He felt too weak to stand for some reason. He pulled himself to his knees as Dynast walked up to him.  
  
"Get a bottle of wine and the crystal flutes first. I want those ready when I return. And I want you ready to assist me with Xelloss. Is that clear...you..." Dynast searched for a name.  
  
"Master Xelloss preferred to call me Bishop, sir."  
  
Dynast wet his lips around the shape of it, trying the name on his tongue. "That will do." He pulled Bishop to his feet, holding him as he swayed. "Get to work."  
  
"Yes, Lord Dynast." Bishop set out quickly for the wine cellar as Dynast vanished.  
  
* * *  
  
Bishop had made fast work of the room, cleaning it within minutes. The wine sat on a table near the bed. Next to them were the crystal flutes, the ones with sapphire dust melted into the glass. Bishop seemed to recall that those were Dynast's favorites. He sat at the table attentively, ready to rise whenever his master returned. He was looking forward to Dynast's arrival. Bishop missed Xelloss already. The priest was the most wonderful conversationalist that the boy had ever met.  
  
A flash of movement right where Dynast had teleported from caught Bishop's eye. Suddenly, Dynast and his guest appeared. Bishop rose to greet his master, but before he could bow, he saw their guest sway and fall into Dynast's arms.  
  
Dynast's mouth curled into a smile that could chill magma. He delicately held his guest's chin and pulled the man's gaze up to meet his own. "You poor, poor thing. Are you sick? I thought that astral travel would set well with _ether vermin_."  
  
Lafitte struggled to bring an answer forth, but it was enough trouble at this point to focus on simple things like seeing, or breathing. _Surinnar_ travel had hurt him more than Dynast's brutality did. Now that he was existing in an _incarnar_ aspect, the world of _surinnar_ was as unattainable as the physical world had been when he had lived on the astral plane. When Dynast pulled Lafitte through the ether he might as well have been dragging a dandelion seed through a gravity well.  
  
Dynast tsked. "Such lack of resilience. I can see that you'll be high maintenance." He looked over at Bishop, noting that the servant had fulfilled his tasks perfectly. "Bishop," a note of command rang in the Lord's voice, "show our guest to his seat. As a _very_ good friend of Xelloss, he deserves our hospitality." Dynast's voice gained a suggestive slur to it when he noted Lafitte's affiliation with Xelloss.  
  
Bishop dashed over to Lafitte with a speed that defied physics. He leaned the _surinni_ against him, then darted back to the table in a blur. Carefully he lowered Lafitte into the chair he had just occupied a moment ago. He performed his tasks with a stability and strength that clashed with his small size and weak appearance. Bishop stood to attention, turning to Dynast for further orders.  
  
The icy King walked to the table with a slow amble, his eyes fixated on Lafitte. Bishop pulled his chair out for him, then stepped back as Dynast sat down with catlike grace. The mazoku leaned forward, grinning at Lafitte, taking pleasure with every shift in the _surinni's_ expression. "Bishop, would you pour the wine?" He raised an eyebrow at Lafitte. "Or are you up for wine? You look too pale to even lift the glass."  
  
Lafitte tried to speak, but his words sank into a sea of dizziness. He felt himself slump. Damnit! He **could** use a drink now, actually, but Dynast wouldn't have the _surinni_ brew he needed for recuperation.  
  
Dynast sighed. "Bishop, see if you can make our guest feel a little more comfortable."  
  
The servant moved to Lafitte's side. As he placed his hands on Lafitte's chest, the _surinni_ felt warmth rush into him. With the warmth came pure energy. It surged through his body, pushing into every part of him with a forwardness that made Lafitte feel almost uncomfortable. To his relief, the rush of pressure halted. With the absence of the energy came a strength and vitality that he had not yet experienced on this plane. It was almost like being _surinnar_ again. Lafitte actually felt almost normal.  
  
Bishop made a short bow to him and then darted back to Dynast's side. The Lord smiled at him with an overpowering smugness. "You've regained your color. Did your tongue accompany it?"  
  
Lafitte narrowed his eyes. "Yes."  
  
"Good. Have some wine. If you shun my hospitality any further, I might get the notion that you're being rude." Dynast sipped from his flute, his eyes still on Lafitte.  
  
The _surinni_ took his glass, examining the contents. He'd never had wine on this plane before and wondered if its effects matched those of _surinnar_ vintages. He took a sip, wincing at the bitter taste and disliking the strange warmth that flooded into him as he swallowed. _Surinnar_ wines had any number of effects, from drastic emotional shifts to changes in physical appearance. One vintage even gave the drinker butterfly wings for a few hours. What was so special about this stuff?  
  
Dynast looked at him pointedly. "Well?"  
  
Lafitte cleared his throat, trying to dispell the warmth in it. "It doesn't really impress me, compared with my previous experiences."  
  
The King growled, his face twisting with anger. "What the hell would a _surinni_ know about wine?"  
  
Lafitte took another sip, drinking simply to raise his host's ire. "What the hell would an _incarnt_ know about _surinni_?"  
  
Dynast paused for a moment, his face frozen in an indescribable transitory expression. He seemed to be deciding something. Then the mask broke as he laughed. "Touche." He cocked his head. "I beg your pardon, oh honorable guest. I never requested your name. How rude of me."  
  
The _surinni_ shrugged. "Lafitte."  
  
Dynast smiled with false politeness. "Is that all there is to it?"  
  
"Why the hell would there be anything else? _Surinni_ don't need surnames or useless titles. We are what we are, regardless of what we're being called." Lafitte punctuated his statement with a swallow of wine, and wondered why the strange warmth was becoming pleasant.  
  
"Ahh. I see. Forgettable names for an insignificant race. It certainly fits." Dynast slid his finger over the rim of his glass. "It's a shame that you say the vintage is just as unimpressive. I know _Xelloss_ enjoyed the wine here." Dynast scrutinized Lafitte's face as he spoke. His eyes were alert, contrasting his relaxed words.  
  
Lafitte snorted. "Must have been the only thing he enjoyed."  
  
Dynast smiled. "Perhaps. But I'm not interested in the past. I'm interested in the present, and Xelloss' whereabouts in it."  
  
"Ya don't say." Lafitte smirked, draining his glass. Bishop immediately darted forward to refill it.  
  
"I do say." Dynast's fingers stroked the neck of his glass. "Would you be willing to aid me?"  
  
Lafitte snickered, the sound turning into laughter as he found Dynast's words inexplicably more humorous with each second. "_Hell_ no. Why would I do that?"  
  
The King smiled. "Because I can be very convincing. Bishop, please attend to the library. I'll request your presence when it's wanted." The boy darted away. Dynast walked to Lafitte's side, chuckling as the _surinni_ frowned in confusion. "You asked me what an _incarnt_ would possibly know about a member of your _esteemed_ race. I have a question for you in reply: Did you know that _surinni_ have the lowest tolerance for alcohol of any known creature in existence?"  
  
Lafitte tried to reply, but Dynast's mouth sealed his lips shut. When he attempted to struggle away, he discovered that his limbs were lax and barely responded to his mental commands. He began to panic as Dynast lifted him into his arms.  
  
"You are Xelloss' servant, and in that role you fulfill the duties that he cannot." Dynast walked to the bed, licking his lips. "There were some acts he promised to do for me that you will have no trouble performing. You owe me for the wine, anyways." He laid Lafitte on the bed, crouching over him. "Perhaps after that, we'll see about Xelloss' location. I don't mind a hostile witness. Like many other acts, interrogation is its own reward."  
  
Lafitte wanted to retort, but no insults could come to mind after Dynast began to remove his clothing.   



	2. Chapter 2

Bishop attended to his duties, dusting and sweeping his master's library until there was nothing left to clean. The place had been pristine to begin with. The boy was a little perplexed as to why his master had sent him here. Certainly there were other rooms that needed his attention: closer rooms from which he could heed his master's calls with more punctuality. Bishop shook away the questions in his mind. It was silly to think that his master had picked this place because it was farther away than the others. He began scanning the bookshelves, searching for misplaced tomes. Perhaps he could do some rearranging while he was here...  
  
The servant wondered why his master didn't bring Xelloss back. He had been too afraid to question the King in front of a guest, but perhaps later, when they were alone, he could ask. Bishop missed Xelloss, and he really didn't understand who or what this Lafitte person was.  
  
Bishop could remember first seeing Xelloss years and years ago. Time was fuzzy in his mind. It seemed like he'd been in the army for his entire life. He had stood with Dynast's esteemed soldiers for a long, long time before Xelloss' army had attacked. Then everything blurred in the heat of battle. He had defeated peasants in combat and beseiged entire castles all by himself. Sometimes he retreated to protect his King's back, other times he ran blindly into the enemy's territory to distract the opposing soldiers. For a while, he seemed invincible. Bishop paused in his duties, shivering. He couldn't imagine fighting anyone, much less winning. He hated violence and the sight of blood made him weak. Thinking of his deeds on the battlefield was like reading about somebody else's life. Was that cunning and vicious soldier _him_?  
  
Whoever it had been, he hadn't really been invincible. An enemy knight had taken him in combat and dragged him back as a prisoner of war. The boy shuddered. It _was_ Bishop, it _had_ to have been him, because the memories terrified him so much. Death seemed like a certainty until they lined him up with the other prisoners. He wasn't to be killed - he was to be held. He and his allies were commanded to stand in rank. [Xelloss had a habit of lining up the pieces he took like he was setting up another chessboard with them.] All were afraid, all hoped for rescue. A few times, one of their King's peasant spies managed to sneak across the battlefield and save an officer. But Bishop hadn't been that lucky. He sank into despair, knowing that eventually he'd die: alone and afraid in enemy hands.  
  
And then, the unimaginable happened. The enemy King summoned Bishop and scrutinized him. Then, as impossible as it seemed at the time, Xelloss adopted Bishop into his fold.  
  
Bishop was shocked. His own King had never deigned to talk to him, barely even given him a glance as he sent him out for missions. Xelloss didn't just speak to him, he conversed! He shared his feelings, his hopes and fears, with a soldier that wasn't even his own. He listened to Bishop's responses, accepted his encouragement wholeheartedly. He even gave Bishop something that his own King never even thought of: a name.  
  
The boy had become so involved in his new King's plight that he aided Xelloss in ways that hurt Dynast. He dug for Xelloss, dug a foxhole in the battlefield to relieve his King's anger. Dug a long, winding, almost endless trench in Dynast's floor so that Xelloss could be free. He had been so happy for Xelloss when the King could finally leave.  
  
He didn't understand his mistake until it was too late. And the boy's King brought him to his own greater, stranger battlefield and punished him for his infidelity.  
  
Bishop didn't know what to think anymore. He wanted King Xelloss to win, but he couldn't break his oaths to King Dynast! The two loyalties pulled at each other in Bishop's mind, each demanding his full attention. What was he to do? Everything had been so much simpler on the lesser battlefield. His orders had been clear, his place in life always assigned at every turn. But this new battlefield was so large. Bishop felt too small in comparison, as if he'd never grown in proportion to his new surroundings. This place confused him. Nothing was clear anymore, and everything was _so_. **_Big_**.  
  
He wished Xelloss were back. He was surely happier wherever he was now, but...Bishop wanted his King. Both of them. Then everything would make sense again.  
  
A prickling sensation on the back of his neck shook Bishop out of his reverie. King Dynast was summoning him. The boy quickly shelved the books he was carrying and then dashed to the Lord's sleeping quarters.  
  
The room was much cooler now than it had been earlier. Bishop noticed the lamps along the walls were very dim. That might explain the lower temperature. Without the flames roaring, the room was quite dark. Bishop looked around for his master. It was difficult to find anything in this darkness.  
  
"What took you so long? Were you recatalouging my entire collection?" Dynast's voice rose from behind Bishop, impatient and irritated.  
  
Bishop whirled around, bowing before his master. "I'm very sorry, sir. I didn't get that far. Would you like me to catalouge them later?"  
  
Dynast cuffed Bishop across the face. "Don't get smart, boy. You'll find that attitude won't go very far with me." He stroked his knuckles.  
  
The servant cringed, pressing his hand against his cheek. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean it that way."  
  
The King growled. "Then you'll find an easy solution to that particular problem is to just NOT SPEAK to me unless I demand it!" He sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Lafitte will be our guest for an indefinite amount of time. While he stays with us, I will be making some war preparations with my other servants. You will be watching our guest when I cannot and seeing to it that he stays comfortable."  
  
He grabbed Bishop's shoulder, pulling the servant up to stand. The boy still didn't come up to anywhere near his height, but Dynast had his full attention now. "You will treat Lafitte as prisoner first and guest second. He is absolutely not to leave your sight at any time. You know which places I do not allow you inside of without my accompaniment. He is forbidden to visit those places. Keep him out of trouble. Try to keep him out of harm. Do not hesitate to use any means necessary to do either of these. If he gives you too much trouble you are to _knock him out_." Dynast collected himself. "Otherwise, he has the run of my castle. Get to know him. I am going to attend to Xelloss' whereabouts."  
  
Bishop's eyes lit up. "Will you bring Master Xelloss back soon, Lord Dynast? I miss him!"  
  
"Attend to your duties properly and don't worry about things which are none of your concern!" Dynast hissed, squeezing Bishop's shoulder. "Worry more about yourself. I have harsher punishments than you can imagine for failing the orders I've given you. And believe me..." He leaned in close to Bishop, his breath hissing. "I _will_ hurt you if Lafitte goes missing, Bishop. Don't you dare repeat your previous mistake with Xelloss. You answer to **me** first, and no others before me. _Do you understand me, Bishop_?"  
  
The boy nodded emphatically, wiping a tear from his eye. "Yes, master."  
  
"Good." Dynast turned on his heel and walked away without another glance at Bishop. "Make the bed after he wakes up." The door slammed behind him, punctuating his order.  
  
* * *  
  
Firia's senses were very hazy upon waking, but she immediately recognized the familiar feel of Xelloss' body nestled against hers. She smiled, relishing in the physical sensation of lying with someone. Firia had missed Xelloss when he was away. The loneliness had affected her deeply, even more so with Valteria's absence. Now he was back. Firia snuggled against her companion, happy to be with him once more.  
  
"Miss, please, listen to us!" A voice pleaded with her, strained with concern. "Please, you have to let go!"  
  
Let go...Firia frowned. Who could possibly ask her to do that? She had just now finally been reunited with her Xelloss. Who would _dare_ request her to let him go? Where was she? Were there others here...she couldn't tell. Her head felt as if it were wrapped in layers and layers of silk. What was going on? "You...you can't have him! You won't have him again!" She clutched Xelloss more tightly.  
  
A different voice than the first answered her. "Xelloss is badly hurt, miss. You can't be with him any longer until we can make him healthy again. Otherwise, both you and he could suffer ill effects." Hands gently rested on her shoulders, reinforcing the good intentions in the speaker's voice. "We'll return you to him, we promise."  
  
"Believe me," the first voice added, "we want him to get well just as much as you do." The speaker sounded weary and anxious.  
  
Firia tried to shake away the veils wrapped around her mind, but only suceeded in further tangling her senses. "I-I can't see him! I don't understand...Please, help..."  
  
Arms wrapped around her, pulling her away from Xelloss. "It's alright. We'll help you. Just rest a little more."  
  
"I-I can't see! What's going on?!"  
  
"Shhh." The first voice whispered in her ear. A finger rested against her lips. "Sleep."  
  
And she did.  
  
* * *  
  
"Xelloss!" Firia sat up, sight and sound and every other sign of reality coming to her all at once.  
  
"I see you're up." A voice chuckled at her side. Firia recognized it as the first voice that had spoken to her the last time she was awake. She turned to face the stranger, her anger beginning to wake with the rest of her.  
  
A young man wrapped in silks looked at her from his perch on a tall three-legged stool. Sandy hair wildly twirled around his head, tapering into two dark blue banners at the sides that reached past his waist. The dark hue complemented his bright amber eyes. He was polishing a small glass bottle, his fingers turning it endlessly under and over a soft blue cloth. Firia was almost embarrassed at herself. The man looked amiable and utterly non-threatening. He smiled at her. "Did you have a good rest?"  
  
"I..." Firia was struck dumb for a moment by her confusion. "Err, yes." She looked around, disoriented by the new surroundings. She was in a small kitchen-like room that was lined in every available space with shelves. The walls were made of a strange substance that was like golden glass filled with straw. It was opaque and glowed with a subtle light that bathed everything in the room with warm hues. Firia was on the floor, laying on a very comfortable pallette made of soft blankets and wide cushions.  
  
Firia shook her head. She felt strange. Everything seemed ethereal but somehow mundane at the same time. It was just as if she were traveling astrally, but with the added solidity of the physical world. Alien, yet somehow very familiar. "Where am I?"  
  
"You're in Jaque's house." The man smiled at her again, still polishing the bottle. "I would be Jaque. And you, my mysterious and charmingly demanding guest, probably have a name of your own." He cocked his head. "Would you care to share it with me?"  
  
Firia relaxed. Jaque's cheerful air and kind demeanor were enough to make her feel at ease for the moment. "I'm Firia. Firia ul Copt."  
  
Jaque's smile vanished, usurped by astonishment. "You really _aren't_ one of us, are you? We had all though that you were different, but..." Apprehension delicately tinted his face with worry. "Miss, we on this _aislet_ have never done any harm to the _incarnt_." He looked genuinely afraid now, his voice pleading with her.  
  
Firia's eyes widened. "I'm not an _incarnt_! I'd never dream of harming you!" What on earth had him so worried all of a sudden?  
  
Jaque looked horribly confused. "But you _can't_ be a _surinni_! We don't have surnames! Titles are purely _incarnar_ things." He cringed. "Really, miss, we don't want any trouble. Please don't be offended, but nobody recognizes you here, and you don't feel like any _surinni_ I ever met. I can't believe that you're one of us."  
  
"...I'm not _incarnt_. I'm not a mazoku at all. I'm a dragon." Firia's voice was low and shaky. She didn't really want to admit to a mazoku that she was of Ceipheed's people, but what else could she say? Jaque was going to go into hysterics if she didn't do _something_.  
  
Jaque's eyes widened. "A _dragon_?" He paused. "What are you doing _surinnar_? We never get dragons here. Why would you be with Xel-" He narrowed his eyes, thinking for a second. Then he flicked his wrist. The blankets Firia had previously slept in curled around her and bound her tight before she could even squeak. "Please forgive me for being so inhospitable. Just...stay still until I get back. The blankets are still comfortable, aren't they?" Jaque flashed an apologetic smile and then vanished through the wall.  
  
Firia was just about ready to scream. Were all _surinni_ as crazy as Lafitte?!? The dragon sighed, calming her anger. She flopped back into her palette and closed her eyes. Stupid place with its weird people. She should have never woken up.  
  
* * *  
  
Lafitte shifted in the bed, opened his eyes, groaned, and wished that he'd never woken up. It felt like a party had been held in his brain and he'd only been invited to the after-festivities cleanup. He cursed floridly, damning the existence of alcohol to a fiery grave and damning the inventor of _incarnar_ wine to a **really** fiery grave. Every muscle in him ached, especially his head. He wasn't entirely sure his head was a muscle, but Lafitte was willing to give it the benefit of the doubt.  
  
_Damn_ Dynast! Damn that arrogant manipulative _bastard_! He'd saddled Lafitte with the worst headache the _surinni_ had ever experienced. He had dragged Lafitte unwillingly into his opium-lined bed, taken it upon himself to be Lafitte's first sexual partner ever, and forced himself onto Lafitte when the _surinni_ was helpless to do anything about it. _And somehow he managed to trick Lafitte into enjoying it!!_  
  
There were no words for how much Lafitte hated Dynast right now, but he was willing to use quite a lot of swear words on the bastard anyways. He fumed, grabbing his head. It throbbed and burned just like the rest of his body.  
  
A gentle touch to his shoulder and a rush of clarity alerted Lafitte to the presence of another person in the room. He whirled to face Dynast's white-haired servant boy, who backed away in surprise. "What do _you_ want?!" he snarled.  
  
The boy backed away a bit farther. "Do you feel better now?" he asked meekly.  
  
Lafitte paused, blinking. He could see without the painful sensation of light piercing his eyes and burning them from the inside out! And his headache was gone, along with the rest of the aches in his body. He rubbed his arms, getting used to the feel of a healthy physical body again. "I do, actually." He looked at his host with curiosity. "Did you do that?"  
  
Bishop nodded, smiling.  
  
Lafitte nodded back at the strangely cheerful boy. "Thank you. I, um...I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name last night. I was distracted." _**That's** putting it real mildly..._   
  
"My name is..." Bishop trailed off for a moment. "I'm _called_ Bishop." He thought about things for a moment, then smiled as something resolved itself in his mind. "And your name is Lafitte!"  
  
The _surinni_ nodded. "You've a much better memory than me." _And an exceedingly cheerful manner that is extremely out of place here._ "Have you been here very long?" Lafitte sat up, his legs hanging over the side of the bed. He pulled Dynast's fur-lined blankets around himself with a look of distaste for his lack of any other clothing.  
  
Bishop shook his head. "Up until recently I was a soldier. But Lord Dynast needs me here now, so I'm to serve in the castle. I know my way around very well, if you meant that you needed me to get something."  
  
Lafitte perked up. "That _is_ an idea! Can you find my clothing?" He hoped Bishop could find it. It was rude to just sit around in this state, and he did NOT want to be naked and in bed when Dynast returned. That was just asking for trouble.  
  
The boy straightened up. "Clothes should be in the laundry!" He dashed off before Lafitte could stop him.  
  
"No, you don't-" He sighed, slumping his shoulders. "...understand." The _surinni_ shrugged and searched through the rumpled covers for items Dynast had stripped away the night before. Was it even night here? Had it _been_ a night? He reminded himself to ask Bishop about the time when the boy got back.  
  
Ah, here they were. Dynast had dropped them over the side of the bed, apparently. Lafitte rolled his eyes. The Lord was such a _slob_, no matter how hard he would deny an accusation like that-  
  
Lafitte blinked. These _were_ his clothes, but they weren't. He did remember that he was wearing this when he appeared _incarnar_, but it wasn't the clothing he wore _surinnar_. He pulled the outfit on anyways while puzzling over things. When he finished dressing, Lafitte slid his hand over his face. It all became clear to him.  
  
When _surinni_ shifted to the physical plane, their appearances changed. Lafitte was experiencing this phenomenon. While it was good to discover that he was experiencing something perfectly normal, Lafitte felt very troubled. It was enough to shift planes entirely and be forced to live in a world where everything was different than anything he'd ever known. Now he didn't even look like himself. And the change was permanent. Lafitte definitely remembered that detail from his _surinni_ friends that had crossed over at one time or another.  
  
"You found them?" Bishop was at his ear without any warning of his coming. Lafitte supressed his reflexes and remarkably enough did not jump. He turned to face Bishop, who seemed oblivious to the fact that he had appeared seemingly out of thin air. His characteristic smile returned. "I'm glad _you_ could. I'm sorry. I thought they would be with the rest of the laundry. Are you up, then? I've a few duties to attend to if so." At Lafitte's nod, Bishop set to work, returning the bed to it pristine, neatly-made state.  
  
Lafitte could only stare. The boy wasn't just fast. He darted from one spot to another with a speed that defied his physical nature. It was almost like he was teleporting from one spot to another like a mazoku would, though Lafitte could tell that wasn't the case. The boy WAS moving through space, just with lightning-like speed. In a way, that made a lot of things make sense for the _surinni_. The boy said he was a soldier, but until now Lafitte couldn't understand that. How could such an innocent, obviously harmless boy fight at all, let alone survive against the strong or malicious? Supernatural abilities made it all clear.  
  
After Bishop finished, he stood before Lafitte and bowed. "I am to be your host during your stay here. If there is anything you need, I will be the one to attend to it." He rose slightly, looking up at Lafitte from a half-bow.  
  
"Well." Lafitte grinned, waving his hand to the side. "The first thing you can do is show me the exit."  
  
Bishop straightened up, then politely shook his head. "Lord Dynast said that you will stay our guest for an indefinite amount of time."  
  
"Ah." Lafitte brought his hand to his chin, posing thoughtfully. "I suppose that means you're detaining me?"  
  
The boy nodded, smiling apologetically. "I'm sorry for the trouble. I don't wish to hold anybody against their will, but Lord Dynast's command is law here. Please accept my most sincere apologies." He made another bow. Lafitte had a feeling that he did that a lot.  
  
"Oh, I understand." Lafitte nodded, smiling. "It's not your fault at all."  
  
"Thank you! I was worried that you would be offended." Bishop bowed again.  
  
Lafitte took off running. He wasn't really concerned that he had no idea where he was going. Ahead of him was a door, and a door was a door. It would take him places.  
  
But only if he hadn't managed to crash into a wall at that very moment.  
  
Lafitte looked up from his sprawled position on the floor. A wall? There was no wall there! Only...  
  
...Bishop.  
  
Bishop frowned. "I _said_ that you are Lord Dynast's guest!" There was no anger, only confusion and concern. "You'll hurt yourself if you try to run away like this!"  
  
Lafitte shook his head, unable to believe what had just happened. He had clearly been impeded by something heavy, hard, and quite unyeilding. Bishop was a waif! The boy was built like a feather!  
  
The servant knelt next to Lafitte. "Are you hurt? Is anything broken?" He pressed his hand to areas on Lafitte's face that were beginning to blush purple. "Any more bruises under your clothing?"  
  
The _surinni_ backed away a bit. "Nothing dire, Bishop. That's quite alright."  
  
Bishop radiated worry. "Are you sure I didn't hurt you? I'm so sorry about all of this! I should have warned you before you got a chance to escape!"  
  
Lafitte held Bishop's face in his hands so that he could have the servant's full attention. "I'm okay. This was all my fault. You don't have to feel sorry." He spoke very clearly and very slowly. He really hoped it would work, because he didn't want Bishop to apologize at him again.  
  
Bishop blinked. "Are you sure?"  
  
Lafitte nodded. "It was my fault, Bishop. I was rude to try that and deserved what I got." He let the boy go. "Now, let's get up and pretend this never happened."  
  
The boy perked up. "Okay!" He was on his feet in a flash, hauling Lafitte up with a strength that was completely unnatural for a person of the boy's size and build. He took another bow. Lafitte signed inwardly and waited for the boy to rise. "Since you just woke up, would you like some breakfast now?" Another broad, warm smile beckoned to Lafitte. The _surinni_ couldn't find the heart to be annoyed at it. The boy was so sincere.  
  
"Is it morning, then?" Lafitte raised an eyebrow. "I couldn't tell."  
  
Bishop paused for a long time, frowning. He pondered this, then instantly brightened up again. "I don't know, but you'll like it anyway, so breakfast it is!" He grinned with pride.  
  
Lafitte was rendered speechless for a few seconds. Then he sighed, gave up, and said, "I can't argue with that."  
  
The boy's demeanor only brightened with Lafitte's words. He took the guest's hand and led him out of Dynast's room.  
  
Lafitte rubbed his forehead with his free hand. _Xelloss, you bastard, why didn't you tell me this world was utterly insane?_  
  
* * *  
  
Firia lay in her makeshift coccoon of a bed. She was becoming convinced more and more that this new world was absolutely insane. But why struggle? Why fight? Obviously things could only get worse no matter _what_ she did.  
  
"...and she says she's a dragon!"  
  
Firia's ears perked up. There were voices outside this strange house, and she could hear them perfectly. It was as if there were no walls there at all! She abandoned her grumbling and devoted her concentration to the speakers.  
  
"Jaque, she was found _carrying_ Xelloss. _Carrying_ him. What would a dragon be doing with _Xelloss_, of all beings?" The second voice was feminine, and very rational.  
  
"Taking him prisoner! It's the only answer, Toh! I mean, you know how _incarnt_ and dragons are, and she's a Gold! The one race of dragons absolutely dedicated to serving the Dragon Gods. I mean, she's very nice, but...a _dragon_, Toh! What on planes is she doing _here_?"  
  
"Well Jaque, you _did_ say that she was a dragon earlier. Remember? When you said she was heavy?"  
  
Firia's cheeks reddened. She was _heavy_?  
  
Jaque sounded sheepish now. "Well, yeah, but I didn't mean it! And I know I said she was a gift from Rahanalili, and she probably is! Rahanalili gives very strange gifts sometimes. I just...Xelloss is hurt so badly. I don't know what's wrong with him, and what happened, and now we have a dragon in our house and probably armies of _incarnt_ on the way and I just don't know what to do, Toh. I've got very bad feelings. I just...feel like..."  
  
"Shh." Toh's voice was gentle and comforting. "Relax, Jaque. It's okay."  
  
"Toh, I feel like we're going to die." Firia had to strain to hear Jaque; he was practically whispering.  
  
"...Jaque," Toh was shocked. "That kind of talk is completely unlike you! Are you feeling alright?"  
  
"I'm fine. You know how I get sometimes." He spoke warmly now, shrugging off his distress. "But we have a dragon in our house, and as friendly as she seems, I can't bring myself to trust her with Xelloss in the condition he's in."  
  
"Well, don't worry. I'm sure he'll wake up soon enough. Meanwhile, we can take care of the dragon while keeping all of us safe. I'm sure all of this will be clear soon enough. Just relax. You worry me when you get like this. It's not like you." Toh chuckled. "Leave all the worrying to me, okay? That's an order."  
  
"Yes ma'am." Jaque laughed. "Are you going to come and see her? I need to know what to do. She's still injured, you know. I didn't take any measures because we still hadn't identified what she was. The wrong healing method can really harm some of our guests."  
  
"Of course. Let's check in on her. She's probably hungry as well. Dragon or not, she's our guest." Just then, Toh appeared inside the house. She looked down at Firia, who still had a look of rapt concentration on her face. Toh raised an eyebrow and Firia blushed. "Jaque, you didn't soundproof the walls. As usual." She shook her head as Jaque entered. The surinni looked flustered.  
  
"Well, I, um...I didn't think about it!" He scratched his head. "Anyways, no big deal, right? Saves us explanations and introductions. So I think it was a stroke of luck, really!" He grinned with pride.  
  
"So, Jaque." Firia narrowed her eyes. "Am I really that heavy?"  
  
Jaque's eyes widened as his face turned red. Toh could only laugh. "Yes, Jaque, I think you've definitely taken care of first impressions.  
  
* * *  
  
Dynast's castle was a strange place. It lay in the southern hemisphere of the planet, coincidentally across the world from Firia's shop. This meant that when Firia's former house basked in night, Dynast's home saw bright daylight. It rested outside the former Barrier's range, but what Mazoku Lord worth half a dragon's pelt couldn't deal with a trifle like passing through Fibrizo's little wall? Even Xelloss could do _that_....back when the thing still existed.  
  
The castle rested in the middle of the desert. Dynast's prime concern had been location, really, so he just adjusted the weather to suit his taste. In a fifty mile radius around the fortress, hot sands abrubtly froze into wintry tundra. The King derived a wicked bit of pleasure from knowing that he was responsible for cooling off an incredibly large stretch of hot terrain. The less desert in the world, the better.  
  
His castle was a funny thing. The main corridors, the great halls and dining rooms and kitchens and everything else, were perfectly normal. But a sub-level of the castle existed inside a dimensional shift in the exact same place. In this level, Dynast had his army.  
  
It resembled the wine cellars in a way - rows upon rows of racks upon racks holding every weapon the mind could imagine. The racks were as enchanted as the objects they held - they sealed the weapons in so that only he could remove them. Dynast was no fool. He would not allow any chance for insurrection, any opening for a usurper. He preferred his servants in chains. It gave him peace of mind.  
  
Here and there, a rack sat empty and lonely. The servants that once rested here were either out on missions or gone forever. Dynast's cheek twitched as he glanced at Edge's empty slot. He had liked Edge a lot. Edge was a faithful servant, though perhaps far too obsessed with his job. He was perfect, really - his physical form was a simple blade of ice that could never move on its own. But that only gave more form to the astral hunter. _Surinnar_, Edge was unstoppable. Once Dynast lodged the knife into his intended target, Edge would assault it _surinnar_ until it simply gave out. Dynast never had to fear rebellion from Edge - the knife couldn't travel _incarnar_ or hurt him there at all, and it could only assault things _surinnar_ if they were very near his prey. Edge had never failed him.  
  
Dynast clenched his fists, smouldering. Edge had finally done so.  
  
_Damnit._  
  
His eyes scanned the racks, though the Lord really wasn't searching for anything. He just wanted his damned Xelloss back. He didn't want a pitiful _surinni_ to helplessly warm his bed. He had Xelloss in his grasp! He had won! And now the priest was lost, and Dynast was left with nothing to aid him but a _surinni_ baffoon.  
  
_I need more than that._ The King's eyes stopped in their endless glide among the racks. His weapons might animate themselves into any number of forms, but would any really help him? Edge had been his best _surinnar_ agent. He had to admit to himself that he was vastly under-prepared for _surinnar_ ventures. He hated the plane, he hated _surinni_, he hated deigning to move on that pitiful sub-world that was a mere blurred reflection of _incarnar_ reality. But he had no choice, now.  
  
Xelloss had chosen the battlefield.  
  
Dynast's eyes narrowed. "You love it there, don't you, Xelloss? You love your pitiful _surinni_ friends, just like Zelas did." His lip curled. "I'm going to make you regret that." He turned to the knives resting in the same row that Edge had occupied once. All of them were tools of ice, just as he had been. They did not work the same way, though. No, these were hunters. They might not be experienced _surinnar_, but they possessed the gift that had made Edge so effective there. Anything they grasped was frozen in place, unable to squirm away in that manner that _surinni_ had perfected.  
  
The Lord had never waged war on the _surinni_ before. They had never been that important before.  
  
Dynast grinned like a shark anticipating the tang of flesh. Things were about to change.   



	3. Chapter 3

Though Xelloss' treachery had deeply wounded Dynast's good spirits, he felt strangely elated now. He liked the allure of fresh prey in his home, and this wasn't just _any_ guest. It was a very close, very personal friend of Xelloss. Because Lafitte was so close to Xelloss, anything Dynast did to Lafitte would be like punishing the boy in person for his actions. And to make the whole situation even more alluring, Lafitte was a _surinni_. Dynast loved to hurt _surinni_ as much as he loved killing dragons. It was as if fate had sent him the perfect slave.  
  
As easy as Dynast had told him it would be, interrogating the _surinni_ might be difficult. Lafitte seemed to be as stubborn as Xelloss was, and equally clever. While Dynast had possessed the advantage of Xelloss' reptilian whore as leverage against the mazoku, he had nothing to aid in the loosening of Lafitte's tongue. He knew nothing about him at all. And that would be a problem. Dynast narrowed his eyes, glaring at the late afternoon sun. If Lafitte could hold up under pain, things could prove to be difficult. He needed something more. Something that would control the _surinni_ for him.  
  
Dynast snarled. What in Hellmaster's domain and above would a _surinni_ find important? Why did he end up needing such seemingly useless knowledge? He couldn't think of an answer, couldn't think of a bloody thing that an ether breather would treasure. Damnit!  
  
The King sighed, threading his fingers through his hair. Perhaps the answer didn't have to be that complex. Did he really _need_ to force Lafitte into cooperation when he could just get the bastard drunk?  
  
Dynast shook his head. As easy as it might be to force alcohol down the _surinni's_ throat, he hated resorting to such crude methods. He _wanted_ leverage. He _wanted_ to force Lafitte to play by his rules. Any other method lacked...finesse.  
  
He snarled, stalking away. Finesse had its beauty, but he had enough things to frustrate him right now, and too little time to dally with games.  
  
* * *  
  
It was strange, really. Lafitte had expected _incarnar_ to be completely different from everything he had known, but his expectations had failed him. _Incarnar_ and _surinnar_ were similar...eerily similar, to him. People were alike, places were alike...there were just little, subtle differences. Like gravity. And fixed time. And inferior alcohol. But it didn't feel as alien as he thought it would. It was strange enough to confuse him, but familiar enough that he could probably survive in it. A world so separate from his own shouldn't feel like that. It wasn't right. It just...didn't feel right.  
  
Really, Lafitte was just feeling gypped. He had looked forward so long to visiting _incarnar_ for an extended period. His first journey across had been incomplete and all too short. He had promised himself that the next time would be his _real_ first time. His perfect vacation.  
  
_This is **not** my idea of a perfect vacation._  
  
Bishop appeared by his shoulder, robes whispering. The boy set a tray in front of his guest and bowed. "Since I didn't want you to wait here alone for too long, I thought this would be the best course." He beamed with pride. Lafitte hoped it was pride in the meal and not in the pun.  
  
"Thank you. I..." _...have no idea what food is like here and thus have no way to judge your cooking skills..._ "...am certain I'll enjoy it."  
  
"I hope so!" Bishop flopped into a chair across from Lafitte. He had no plate for himself, which made the _surinni_ feel even stranger. He was the only one eating at this long banquet table. "Where are you from? When Master brings guests in, they're always from faraway places. I've never been to an _exotic_ place." Bishop's eyes were wide and curious, fixated on Lafitte in rapt attention.  
  
The surinni supposed that he was, yet again, captive to the audience here. "I come from pretty damn far away. My home is on a different plane of reality." At Bishop's confused expression, he clarified, "Like another world. I come from another world."  
  
Bishop nodded sagely. "Ahhh."  
  
Lafitte sighed. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"  
  
The boy beamed. "Not really!" He paused, apparently reaching an epiphany. "Hey, you mean you're one of those 'ether-damned _surinni_ bastards' that Master Dynast talks about every now and then?"  
  
"Yes, that's it exactly it, Bishop." Dynast rested a hand on his servant's shoulder, fangs peeking over his smile. "You can be surprisingly clever at times."  
  
Lafitte supressed a retort and decided to pay attention to his...what were these white fluffy bits? Eggs?  
  
"Master Dynast!" Bishop bowed deeply, then stood straight up, alert and ready. "Would you also like some breakfast, my King? I waited for you to come so that your plate wouldn't be cold."   
  
Dynast chuckled. "I think I'll wait till morning for breakfast, boy. Now, run along and...clean the..." The King rummaged in his brain for any place in his palace that wouldn't actually be clean right now. "...clean the dishes you just dirtied."  
  
Bishop twiddled his fingers. "Master, I cleaned the dishes after I cooked."  
  
"The floor? Surely you spilled something."  
  
"I mopped!" Bishop smiled proudly.  
  
"The knives?" Dynast's voice began to strain a little. "Perhaps they've gone dull?"  
  
"Oh. Yessir!" Bishop nodded.  
  
"Then you can go sharpen them." The King's nerves eased.  
  
"Oh, I already did, Master Dynast! Right after I noticed they were dull!"  
  
"..." The King cracked his knuckles. "Then perhaps you can go and search for something that hasn't been cleaned, polished, sharpened or put in order and you will do that very far away and out of earshot _and you will return when I specifically summon you and not a moment sooner!_"  
  
Panic edged Bishop's voice. "Yes, Master Dynast!" He darted away, even faster than usual.  
  
Dynast took a few moments to compose himself, then took Bishop's former seat. He raised an eyebrow at Lafitte. "You're in my chair. Did you know that?"  
  
Lafitte paused in his breakfast endeavors. He looked around. Sure enough, he was sitting at the head of the table, where logically - he realized now - the King would be. "Well. So I am. Do you want it back?"  
  
"No. You can have it, for now." He was grinning, and that plus the sly sound of his voice put Lafitte on edge. "The yellow and white bits are eggs. They're mixed up like that because Bishop scrambled them. That is toast," Dynast pointed to the toast. "And this is a fruit." He sighed. "It seems that Bishop didn't think to slice it. Here, allow me."  
  
Lafitte looked on as the King cut the fruit, his knife gliding through the skin and flesh of it. The motion was delicate and graceful, having the ease of a well-practiced dance. Lafitte watched silently, his muscles frozen from some instinct as Dynast deposited the neat slices onto his plate.  
  
Dynast nodded to him. "Try it. I have them delivered fresh."  
  
The _surinni_ reached for the fruit. His fingers touched it and paused. Ice...the fruit was as cold as ice now. The bare flesh of it -_ where the knife had touched it_ - was frozen.  
  
"Go on." Like the frost on the fruit, the King's enigmatic smile had not yet melted.  
  
Lafitte picked up a slice, the cold biting at his fingers. He bit into the fruit. It tasted sweet - _exquisitely_ sweet - but somehow...dead. The _surinni's_ eyes darted back to his host. Dynast was still smiling. The knife in his hand glittered more than metal should...as if it were made of ice?  
  
Lafitte had a sudden, frightening flashback of his encounter with Edge.  
  
"You're wondering," Dynast groomed his nails with the knife. "How did I know that you wouldn't be able to name your own food?" He picked up a slice of the fruit. "This is a peach, Lafitte. I feel that peaches taste best when chilled." His teeth pierced its flesh like a blade. "_Surinni_ seem to enjoy the sweetness, I find."  
  
"You steal _surinni_ away to your home, and keep them until they no longer amuse you." Lafitte's eyes narrowed. "That's why you knew. You've treated my kind to dinner plenty of times before. You know how alien _incarnar_ food would be for a _surinni_."  
  
Dynast nodded. "Quite the logician you are. I have indeed treated many a _surinni_ to a meal at my table." His expression shifted to confusion. "But you seem so distressed about it."  
  
Fists shaking, Lafitte barely managed to remain seated. "What the _hell_ did you do to them?!"  
  
"Aha. An astute question." Dynast flicked the blade through the air. "Allow me to answer that."  
  
Lafitte seized up. His skin...his flesh!  
  
"Like a peach..." Dynast whispered. With another twist of the icicle knife, the interrogation began.  
  
* * *  
  
Lafitte lay crumpled on the floor, clutching his chest. He concentrated as much as he could on not moving. This was much harder than it seemed, here on the physical plane. His _incarnar_ body wanted to twitch, to shift its weight. Weight. Now there was an interesting concept that he had been introduced to very intensely within the past few hours. When Dynast threw him to the ground, weight crushed Lafitte's arm between him and the floor. When Lafitte attempted to get up, weight brought his body crashing back down. Weight sent his face down during this fall, right into Dynast's knee. Dynast knew a lot about weight. Lafitte knew a lot about it too now.  
  
Weight was not currently the problem. The problem was pain, a concept which Lafitte thought that he already knew a lot about before his interrogation. He discovered, however, that he had so much more to learn.  
  
Dynast was such an eager instructor.  
  
Lafitte could have sworn that knife had done a lot of damage. He could feel the wounds ache and sting. He could feel the parts in his body that were torn. But there was no blood, because the knife had really never touched him. The King had simply sliced through air, giving Lafitte the feel of the blade's caress. The feel, but not the effects.  
  
The effects hurt a damn lot. Lafitte twitched as a surge of pain welled up from a slash - a nonexistant slash - on his calve. Damnit, he had moved! Now his chest throbbed, and that set off his arms, bled into his face. Moving made it all hurt at once. Damnit. He had tried so hard to stay still.  
  
"You could have made that a lot easier on yourself." Dynast smacked the flat of the blade against his palm. "We could have forgone that entire conversation if you had only spoken with no prompting."  
  
Lafitte attempted to correct Dynast, to inform him that the past few hours of torture had not resembled a conversation in any way. He realized, as his chest exploded into agony, that trying to speak was a mistake. It was even worse than trying to move.  
  
Dynast tsked, shaking his head. "Stupid _surinni_. Your kind always act so surprised when I hurt them. As if you're not smart enough to expect it." The Lord nudged his captive's shaking form with his toe. "Even animals are better than that."  
  
Lafitte dragged the words out of his chest with all of his strength, forcing them to march ahead. "It's...just...different...here." He didn't know why he bothered explaining. Dynast was the last mazoku who would ever try to understand the point of view of a _surinni_, and all Lafitte suceeded with by trying was to put himself in even more pain. Far too much pain, really, because his vision was starting to blur now.  
  
The King snorted. "Say whatever you want to say, you useless _surinni_ trash. But I would save my breath, if I were you." He gave Lafitte a kick, sending the unwilling guest sprawling towards the dining table. "Don't waste it on anything that won't stop your suffering." The Lord stroked the ice blade with his fingertip, then plunged it downward, ripping through the air. Lafitte cringed as the dagger wounded his body with phantom cuts. "There is only one thing that can stop me. A confession, Lafitte. Information. Locations. Directions." He leaned over to look the _surinni_ in the eye, his face so close that his silver and blue locks brushed against Lafitte's bruised skin with rude familiarity. His fingers closed around Lafitte's neck. "TELL ME WHERE XELLOSS IS! Tell me where to find him, where to search, where you know he'll be! I know how much he fraternizes with _surinni_! _You all know him_! Your kind are giving sanctuary right now. He's _**mine**_! _My lover, my servant, **my property**_! To aid his flight from me is to deliberately strike against me, _and you all know it_!"  
  
Dynast paused in his tirade, his features relaxing back into calm superiority. He extended a single finger and slid it along Lafitte's cheek. The pain faded away with the King's touch, a suspicious miracle. "Just tell me where he is, Lafitte, and I can stop this."  
  
Lafitte stared up unblinkingly at Dynast, assuming perfect calm. His speaking facilities were coming back to him, now that the pain had departed. "Say whatever you want to say. I would never turn Xelloss in under any circumstances, especially not because of any threat from _you_. _Surinni_ learned the ways of _incarnt_ long ago. So I know that when you take Xelloss back, you'll murder any of my kind you can on the way. And even if you had offered my freedom in return, which you haven't, I know better than to think you'd honor such a deal. But none of that's really important. And do you know why?"  
  
Dynast narrowed his eyes. He wasn't hearing what he wanted to hear, and now the _surinni_ was asking _him_ questions? What kind of position did this little pawn think he was in? "No, I don't. Why?" His words were clipped and as frosty as the blade in his fist. A warning.  
  
"Because Xelloss is my friend, and I won't betray him. None of us will, and that's why you're going to lose, Dynast, because you ca-"  
  
Dynast clamped his hand over Lafitte's mouth, his fingers digging into the _surinni_'s skin. "That wasn't a particularly smart move to make, though I admit my expectations of any real intelligence in you were very low." A smile cut its way across Dynast's cheeks, and something about it frightened Lafitte terribly. "It's useless, isn't it? I won't be able to force anything out of you by pain alone." He sighed, shrugged, and stood. "Well, I don't see what I could possibly do to draw a confession out of you. I guess I'll just have to let my agents continue their search _surinnar_." He looked down at Lafitte, smiling with what might have been innocent helplessness on any other being in the world.  
  
Lafitte took the bait. How could he help it? The King's final sentence held too many dangerous nuances for him to be able to ignore it. "You-you have agents travelling _surinnar_?"  
  
"Oh! I never _told_ you? Why yes, of _course_ I have agents posted on the astral plane! Precautions must be made, you know. There being so many enemy forces in that realm..."  
  
Lafitte's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean? What's there besides the _surinni_?"  
  
Dynast blinked, adopting an almost convincing expression of surprise. "Besides the _surinni_? My enemy **is** the _surinni_!"  
  
There was nothing that Lafitte could say for almost a minute. The surprise silenced him, and then dawning horror kept him quiet all the more.  
  
The King snickered, crouching down to the _surinni's_ level. "Such shock. Don't you think that's a little silly? You _are_ a spy, and a saboteur. That you wouldn't realize that your own kind is my enemy...is really quite amusing, Lafitte!" Laughter, frozen laughter, rang in Lafitte's ears.  
  
Lafitte wondered why his heart, so new to him, felt like it had stopped. Dynast was notorious for his cruelty to _surinni_. And now, waging open war on them? Because of Xelloss? Because of himself?  
  
"You can stop it." Dynast's voice slid across Lafitte like a bow over a violin's strings. "You can stop all the killing, all the pain...I just want Xelloss, Lafitte. Give him to me. If you tell me where he is, then I won't have to destroy your people to find him." Dynast's fingers brushed through Lafitte's hair in a gesture that was almost comforting. "I understand why you want to keep him, Lafitte. But having him just isn't worth the safety of your race."  
  
Lafitte felt his heart grasp for the strands of hope Dynast waved before him. Part of him wanted to believe it was that simple. But he couldn't. "When we give him to you, you'll just kill us all anyways. And when you have Xelloss, you'll still keep me, if only to gloat at. But as long as we have him, we're safe-" Dynast shoved Lafitte down with his back to the floor, the _incarnt's_ fingers digging deep into the _surinni's_ shoulders. "-And as hard as you try to hunt us down, you'll still only have me. My people are clever and fast in their own realm. You'll never know where they hide!"  
  
Defiance brought with it much more pain, but Lafitte knew by the expression on Dynast's face that he had spoken the truth.  
  
* * *  
  
"No, Xelloss." The King caught the priest's hand before he could move his fingers away from the bishop. "You don't want to do that."  
  
Xelloss blinked. "I don't?"  
  
"No." Dynast let his hand linger on his student's before pushing it back, escorting the bishop to its original position. "You don't." He regretfully withdrew his hand, losing that oh-so-brief moment of touch. "See, let me show you." Dynast got up, walked around to Xelloss' side of the table, and stood so that he could look over his guest's shoulder like a personal advisor. "This is why a practice match was such a good idea. You've picked up the basic rules astonishingly fast, my boy." He set his hand on Xelloss' shoulder. "But you still have yet to learn the subtleties of this game."  
  
Xelloss nodded, frowning in concentration. "I don't see what else I could do, though. The only choice left is to retreat." He shrugged away from Dynast's hand as he gestured to the pieces. "See? If my bishop stays there, your rook will take it. I can't move forward to attack because all of the spaces ahead are guarded by pawns. The only opening for attack at all, in fact, would only lose you a pawn - then you would take my bishop with your king. I should retreat, then, and form another strategy."  
  
"It's funny you mention pawns." He made to set his hand on Xelloss' shoulder again, but the boy just happened to shift his weight at that moment. Damn. "See, if you move this pawn _here_," Dynast moved one of Xelloss' pawns to the space in front of the bishop, "then my rook can't take your bishop anymore. In fact, as you can see, the resulting arrangement would place my rook in danger after taking the pawn. You could take the rook, then. And all you sacrifice is a pawn." He clasped his hands behind his back, smiling.  
  
"But..." Xelloss grimaced. "Isn't that a little silly? Since it's such an obvious trap, you won't walk into it. You don't value pawns enough to sacrifice your rook just to take one down."  
  
The Lord raised an eyebrow. _'A little silly,' he says_? "Well yes, you are quite astute, Xelloss. In the flow of a normal game, an experienced player like myself would immediately see such a trap. But the point of setting it up isn't to make me fall for it. The trap is an offensive action, disguised as a defense. By lining it up, you are showing me that you are alert and that you will not idly stand by while I threaten one of your most versatile pieces. Such an action forces me to stall my attack or rethink my plans completely." His hand rested on Xelloss' shoulder again, taking advantage of the stillness that came from deep thought. He could shift his feet a little, now, and the slide of his hand sideways would be dismissed as part of that shift. Xelloss' hair barely brushed his knuckles now. If he wanted to - and he so _desparately_ wanted to - he could caress the boy's neck, where his skin would be softest.  
  
_But that capture will have to wait until much later, after a thousand careful advances_.  
  
"Taking a hostage does indeed shift the flow of battle." Xelloss hunched closer to the board, resting his face against his palm. Dynast's fingers slipped away.  
  
The King blinked. "That's a strange way to put it, but I suppose it's true." _Damnit! Why does he move so much?_  
  
"I still don't think I understand the sacrifice. I mean, the theoretical sacrifice." He leaned his head against his fist, frowning as he pondered. "I would lose a pawn."  
  
"So?" Dynast's expression shifted into confusion. "Why are you so worried? A pawn is weak, and you have eight of them. One lost pawn shouldn't be such a problem for a good player. And you've grasped the game remarkably well, Xelloss." A pat on the back. Just one touch. He needed just one touch.  
  
Xelloss blinked, looking up at the King. "But they're my men. I don't want to sacrifice any of them."  
  
Dynast laughed. "They're chesspieces, Xelloss! You shouldn't be that concerned about them."  
  
"But if I don't care about the pieces, why should I care about the game?"  
  
The King's laughter froze in his own throat. He covered the sudden stop with a cough. _What of a question is that?_ "Winning or losing the game is what's important, Xelloss. It's a contest. A mental excercise. Just a little way to have fun, to get to know someone while you flex your wits."  
  
Xelloss was silent for a moment. "Oh."  
  
The priest picked up his bishop and moved it back to retreat.  
  
* * *  
  
_That was three thousand years ago._  
  
The thought wandered alone in the wasteland of Lafitte's mind. The _surinni_ wondered for a moment how it could be there. It was so coherent, and he was not.  
  
Where was he? Maybe on the floor...the floor of the dining room, the floor of the bedroom. Maybe he had been thrown across the table as a new centerpiece. Dynast would much prefer an arrangement like that to flowers.  
  
He was _incarnar_. He knew he was, even though at this moment his surroundings were even more vague and insubstantial than that of the _surinnar_ world. He knew, because if he were _surinnar_ right now, he would actually have the ability to feel safe.  
  
"Lafitte?" The whisper slid across his thoughts like a knife. It was loud. It was close.  
  
"Mr. Lafitte?" Bishop bent over Lafitte's prone form, whispering into the _surinni's_ ear. "Are you awake? This is Bishop. I'm here to take care of you."  
  
Lafitte tried to answer but the floor gave way under him. He realized, in a moment, that this was purely vertigo. He was perfectly still. At least, as far as he could tell.  
  
He felt a little less disoriented as Bishop pulled him closer, his head resting in the boy's lap. There was foundation here. He could believe the world was solid, from here.  
  
Warmth rolled over his shoulders. As this happened, he realized once again that he **had** shoulders. Bishop's fingers were curled around them - a little tightly, in fact, as if the boy was afraid. The warmth coursed lower, flowing all the way to his feet, proving that he had a body - an entire one. Healed. He was being healed.  
  
Bishop flinched as Lafitte's body curled tightly upon itself. "I'm sorry! I know it hurts! I swear I'll fix it soon!"  
  
Lafitte only closed his eyes and held on to Bishop. It was pain, yes, but it was only pain. He had felt a lot of it at Dynast's hands already. It certainly wasn't going to topple him now.  
  
Sure enough, the pain did fade, washing away with the same river of warmth that again flowed from Bishop's hands. Lafitte could feel the boy shaking now. But his blurred mind couldn't decipher the reason.  
  
Bishop sniffled, trying to force the tears back so that he could focus on his work. He wouldn't cry. His King would get angry if he cried. Crying wouldn't help him or Lafitte. But he couldn't help himself. His Lord and master had caused so much pain, and so brutally...as his servant, was he to answer for it? It only seemed right. How could Bishop apologize for something like that? How could he apologize for his master, and thus insult him? Why did it hurt him so much that his master did that which was his right?  
  
He bit his lip against a sob, and went on healing.  
  
Lafitte was in bed before he realized it. Bishop was, of course, an unnaturally fast servant. But he was quicker about it than Lafitte would have expected, had he been aware enough to notice. Instead, he passed out as soon as Bishop began pulling the fur-lined blankets over him. He was unable to notice Bishop's odd silence, and his urgency in leaving him alone in their master's bed.  
  
* * *  
  
No one noticed when the first _surinni_ died.  
  
Why would anyone notice? Out of all the major races in the world, only the _incarnt_ mazoku knew of the _surinni_. And if any of them cared, it was only because one less _surinni_ made them a little happier, or gave them a chuckle of satisfaction. The only _incarnt_ who would care in a good way were either dead or far beyond awareness at this point.  
  
The other _surinni_ would care very much, if they knew.  
  
But the first _surinni_ died very quietly, and very far away from civilization as they knew it. The blades of ice that had caused its demise were the only witnesses, and perhaps the only beings to truly care about the death. Because it made them happy. Very happy.  
  
King Dynast would be pleased.  
  
* * *  
  
Jaque felt it again. A little unease, as if some sort of nightmare had followed him from the land of dreams and was now softly poking him. He shook it off. this was unusual for him. He was generally so happy? What was wrong with him? On top of that, he had a guest.  
  
A guest he needed to apologize to.  
  
"I _am_ very sorry, Ms. Firia, if my comment caused you any distress...I certainly didn't mean it in a bad way! Dragons naturally have more mass to them! It's admirable!"  
  
Firia was struck silent, while Toh stared at the _surinni_. "Admirable, Jaque?"  
  
"Well, we _surinni_ are fair pushovers, we're so insubstantial! Dragons are strong, aren't they?"  
  
"I...I guess you could put it that way..." Firia repressed the urge to get riled up about it. Jaque obviously had no ill intentions. He was just a little flighty. And considering how wispy her thoughts felt in this new state, she could sympathize. "Anyways, are you...I guess all _surinni_ are Xelloss' friends? Have you looked after him before? Are we safe here?"  
  
Toh blinked. "Why, do you need to be safe?"  
  
Firia could feel the faintest tinge of apprehension and foreboding come from Toh as she spoke those words. She could almost, just barely on the tip of her tongue, taste the feelings. She wondered if this was how Xelloss experienced things, in a tiny way. "I...yes. Yes, we very much need to be safe right now."  
  
Toh's eyes darkened. "This has to do with what happened to Xelloss, doesn't it?" The air grew heavy around the three of them. It was charged with that same feeling Jaque had felt creeping up on him only moments before.  
  
"I think we need some drinks! Drinks for our guest! And I'll go get them, shall I?" And without a word more, he ducked away into thin air.  
  
There was no surprise from Toh at this. Her face read weariness, as if she were very used to this habit of his. "That's all for the better, really. He's happier not worried, and we can get more to the point now." Her gaze leveled upon Firia, inarguable and firm. "What happened to Xelloss? What are you doing here? What-" Toh did a double-take. "You didn't come out of it intact either! Look at you! Your hands! How on earth did we miss that?!" She grabbed Firia by the arm, pulling her as she made to leave the room with its many bottles. "Jaque! _Jaque_! Forget the drinks! We need Qus!"  
  
Firia stared down at her hands as Toh waited for her partner. Sure enough, the burns had not dissappeared, and there was a dull ache now beginning to creep up her fingers. Had she not noticed because she was too worried over Xelloss?  
  
A moment later, Jaque appeared, juggling a few bottles and looking very disheveled. He waved a hand and the bottles vanished. "Qus? What do we need her for? What's wrong?"  
  
"Firia here has some injuries." Toh gestured to the dragon's hands. "Qus will know how to take care of that. Isn't Xelloss with her now?"  
  
"We trust Firia then? That's a relief." Jaque smiled. "Xelloss is resting in Qus's station outside the Fount."  
  
"Then that's where we are, right now." And with those words, they vanished.  
  
* * * 


	4. Chapter 4

Dynast felt it, almost like a tickle in the back of his mind. His troops were reporting to him from the astral plane.

They had already killed one for him.

That was something to make him happy, at least. It made him feel better as he looked at Lafitte, lying there in his bed. It made him feel less like killing him.

_No, don't. He's useful._

Oh, but Dynast so loved a dead _surinni_. And the bastard wouldn't talk anyways. If the things Dynast had done to him already hadn't made him talk, then nothing else would do it. He was a useless dead end for information.

Dynast was just so angry. Always so angry these days. And it was all Xelloss' fault.

So angry at Xelloss.

But at least he had a way of getting back at the traitorous priest. Oh yes. When Xelloss started hearing of the deaths, he'd know who was responsible. He'd know it was his own fault for abandoning his master.

He'd realize that the only way to stop Dynast was to come back to him.

But Dynast...hated...waiting.

He was right not to kill Lafitte just to make himself feel better. The _surinni_ was useful, very useful. Dynast could solve his frustrations with Xelloss through him. Who cared if he was unconscious while Dynast had his fun? Someone had to do Xelloss' job when the priest was away.

_He doesn't even look a thing like him. He's exotic, and that's a desirable kind of beauty, but it means I can't even pretend._ Dynast sunk his hands into rusty brown hair, through the light copper streak. Too long. Too coarse. He wanted to yank it right out of the damn thing's head.

Dynast stroked the _surinni's_ face with his fingers, suppressing the urge to scratch it. Too long, too sharp. Not soft and pale and subtle, as it should have been. "It's just such a shame that you don't look like your master."

That was right! Lafitte was Xelloss' servant. Dynast had never really given it much thought, but he could feel the ethereal chain that connected master to servant. Xelloss at least hadn't had the indignity to call it his friend. He must have still held himself a level above the thing. Made him perform...tasks...

Dynast smiled, the grin cutting across his face in some wicked twist. At least Lafitte wouldn't be unaccustomed to the tasks Dynast would make him perform. Xelloss couldn't have resisted using him in that function. After all, what other use did a _surinni_ have?

_Xelloss is my servant...and if Lafitte was his servant, Lafitte is my servant too._ It was like they were all connected by a chain...

A chain.

An idea sprung up in Dynast's mind, germinating from the fertile soils of envy and anger. Lafitte was useful. Oh yes...very useful. Dynast would have to wait for the _surinni_ to wake up before he tried his theory out, but if he was right...

...then Xelloss wasn't so very far away after all.

It was a hut, just like the one she'd woken up in. It was bigger, and had its own modifications that Firia could only imagine were for special purposes, for whatever this 'Qus' did that made her so important. Firia didn't care, barely looked at the giant monument it was built in front of. She didn't care about anything but the fact that she could _feel_ Xelloss. She could feel him close.

She ran.

"H-hey!!" Jaque yelled, reaching for her. "Don't just-- you have to be careful around here, you haven't ever been _surinnar_ before!!"

Toh put a hand on his arm, smiling. "Let her go. She has her instincts, and they're leading her to Xelloss. Instincts are what build our world, aren't they? She's off to a good start."

Jaque sighed, and let Firia run off to where she wished. "I was happy to hear that we trust her, but...I'm still a little wary of letting her go to Xelloss."

Toh raised a thin lilac eyebrow. "That's a little odd from you. Weren't you the one arguing that we shouldn't seprarate them while they slept? To be honest, I thought you were going to put a little _too_ much trust in her. ...As you so often tend to."

Jaque bit his lip. His face, normally bright and happy, was ill-suited to the troubled look that it currently wore. "I just...I don't think it's Firia. I'm just afraid. Xelloss just doesn't show up injured here. He knows we don't have anything that could really heal him. Remember the last time he was here and hurt?"

"...That was a very long time ago, Jaque, and an extremely..._unique_ situation." She looked at him. "You're not thinking about Xelloss, are you? That time...wasn't troubling because of Xelloss."

The _surinni_ nodded. "That's what I'm thinking about, Toh. What I'm feeling."

Toh was quiet for a moment. She finally sighed. "Damn you and your hunches. I feel it now too."

"I'm sor-"

"No, don't. Don't worry about this. Just think of other things. I'll be the worrier." Toh crossed her arms. "Besides, I'm blaming that damned Lafitte for all of this. He always has a lot to answer for, and I"ll just bet _this_ is his fault too."

"Heh-heh!" Jaque smiled and set out for Qus's station again. "If you're on about him again, things might really be as they should."

Hands very lovingly carressed Lafitte's neck and squeezed him awake. There was no pause for the _surinni's_ choking. Dynast only smiled, leaned down, and gave Lafitte's cheek a long lick. "Now now. Just stay quiet, and enjoy yourself." As the struggling began, the grin only stretched wider.

"Yes, just like that."

Because Lafitte couldn't really resist him at all, not when his mind was being climbed like a ladder...

"...Why isn't he waking up?"

Xelloss opened his eyes, only to find himself back where he started.

In pain.

Cold.

Lying on the floor of Dynast's bedchambers.

_No. No no no no no-_ He was still there. Lying there. Bishop lying on the floor ten feet away, quartz eyes staring back at him. Face tiny and smiling and obedient. Perfect servitude in miniature.

His future looking back at him.

"NO!" But he couldn't even have that defiance. It was followed by a chain of harsh coughs as soon as it emerged from his throat. Pain tore through his lungs, the ragged gasps and shreiks echoing in tempo with the throb in his back. The ice in his back. The overpowering, gripping ice...

...taking over his mind...

"No." One last ragged whisper, and it finally dragged him into oblivion.

. . .

...lifted up from darkness.

By the shoulders. Held by the shoulders and pulled up...close...

"You tried to find me. You shouldn't do that...Xelloss...you shouldn't have, you couldn't walk in that condition!"

Being chastised for something he wasn't actually doing...had no intention of finding that bastard, that...augh, something pulling at him...pulling at his back--

Xelloss didn't even realize the screams came from him. They were distant. Echoing. Leaving him cold.

So cold...

"Too late to be feeding you...I thought I could heal you, make it easier. But it has to be now." Dynast gripped the handle of the knife.

Xelloss suddenly knew where he was. Exactly what position. Exactly what was being done to him. Dynast had laid him face down on the floor -- the smooth floor, the teleport sigil hadn't worked but it HAD vanished without betraying Xelloss. In preparation for something. For something quite obvious indeed.

"I need you to swear the oath, Xelloss. It has to be now, or I won't be able to unsheath it without hurting you. If you swear it now I can pull this away and you'll be safe. I was stalling, I'm sorry. I know you wanted this sooner...I was foolish." Dynast's voice was smooth, calm, urgent, but concerned. Genuinely concerned.

Xelloss knew that concern damned him the most.

"Come on." Dynast's voice coaxed gently. "I know you can find the strength."

Xelloss' mind lurched. Now? _Now_ he had to make the oath, to swear -- he couldn't -- HE WASN'T GOING TO -- not now! _He had almost made it! He had been so close!_

He couldn't...he couldn't do such a thing.

"Please." Dynast's hand lay against his shoulder. The weight of comfort. Of command. "You've suffered too long already."

The cold dug into his back as if to emphasize the King's point. Such a sharp point. And cruel...merciless...it was really going to take him. Right now. Rend Xelloss into some empty husk-doll for Dynast to play with until he grew tired of the game. There was no escape. No options. And no time.

...He had one other choice.

"_Xelloss_? Can you still speak?" That awful concern. That awful, awful concern.

Serve him willingly as himself, or lose all semblance of self and _then_ serve him.

...Wasn't it the same thing?

"Xelloss?"

Firia. All thoughts came back to her, because there was no Zelas to think of anymore. All he could think of was, _what was better for Firia?_

...A doll couldn't do anything for anyone. A doll would never hesitate. A doll would never hold back, would never be able to disguise disobedience as accidental. A doll would not care what Dynast did to her.

A rattle crawled out from Xelloss' throat just as Dynast opened his mouth for another concerned query. Xelloss winced, tried not to cough. That would only make things so much worse. He swallowed, tried to get any wetness into that frozen, dry cave. He had to speak. Had to...past rust and pain...sorrow and ache...had to speak the words.

"I swear my self to you, my King."

Dynast pulled out the knife at the very last syllable. Somehow it was painless. Easy. Slipped free, coaxed to be gentle by such a simple oath.

Xelloss felt chains winding around his soul from such a simple oath, and realized that this was all he could take--

"Good boy." Such praise had never resonated so strongly in so few words.

Blackness, and he was Dynast's. He could just barely feel his Lord stroking his hair before he gave out.

...Lafitte's hair was too coarse to be Xelloss's.

Dynast straddled him and covered his mouth in a kiss anyways. He didn't need it to be real. For Lafitte, it was real.

And for Xelloss, wherever he was...it was real too, right now.

Firia bit her lip, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked up at Qus, her fingers twined with Xelloss'. His hand was limp, his face pale, cold...his eyes closed, no matter how hard she tried to rouse him. "Why isn't he waking up?"

Dynast plunged his hands into Lafitte's hair again, sighing at the lack of protest. The _surinni_ had given out, it seemed. Or perhaps...

The King felt a moan between his teeth.

...Perhaps the fool had finally learned to lay back and enjoy it. Either way, Dynast would reap the benefits of cooperation, starting at the mouth...

tracing his tongue along the lips, biting at them, tasting and chuckling...

...working cruelly downwards. And while he did this, he was up to actions much more devious elsewhere.

Lafitte writhed against the sheets, his mind far too gone to convince him that any other option existed. It had been taken. Borrowed. Dynast needed a conduit, and Lafitte was unfortunately perfect for the task.

Xelloss looked up through a complete haze. Mind, soul, eyes. All foggy, all veiled...

...but not veiled against everything.

Dangling strands of Dynast's hair stroked his face not even a real veil, a brief warning before the King's lips greeted Xelloss. It was a tentative brush, just a way of welcoming...but then he came back, opened his mouth and held it against Xelloss'.

Once wasn't nearly enough.

Xelloss felt his own lips being prodded, eased apart by Dynast's tongue. He opened to his master.

_--felt something sink like a stone in his chest, maybe his dignity, maybe hope--_

There was a very brief but thorough exploration of Xelloss' mouth, and then Dynast stopped taking liberties with his servant. He lay against Xelloss _on top of me, I'm in a bed, in his bed_ and concentrated...and then breathed.

Xelloss felt himself inhale his Lord's breath. It wasn't even an action he'd done automatically. It was an order.

_Breathe it in._

The servant felt more than just air in that breath. Warmth. Sustenance. And...

His fists balled up the sheets at his sides.

Dynast only breathed more into him, easing in the energy. Just a little bit at a time. Xelloss couldn't handle too much. But he had to have it, no matter the amount. Had to take his medicine. How else would he get better? Dynast felt a moan of protest, tasted it struggle in his mouth. Putting up a fight? It was too late for that.

But Xelloss was troublesome by nature. Dynast repressed a smile. There would be more chances to chastise, even now.

That would be for later. For now, he simply breathed into Xelloss. Little by little. He had to take his master's essence.

Xelloss couldn't do more than clench at the bedding. He was too weak for more struggle than that. He was sworn to his new master, he couldn't fight him. He could only make his tiny struggle and cry out again. And again. He felt Dynast's hand at the back of his head, fingers curling into his hair. Holding him still, just in case. Giving the order to stay still, just in case Xelloss thought he would be able to wrench away. Another muffled cry. There was no way to stop them! Every bit of his master's essence hurt, tore at something fundamental in him, swelled up in him like poison.

He had been created by Zelas, no matter what oaths he was under now.

His cries were cut off halfway every time Dynast exhaled. Xelloss had to inhale, had to take it in -- and then just as quickly exhale, as something inside him tried to push it out--

He wasn't even trying to resist. It was just his base nature doing this. Hard-coded survival instincts. Oil repelling water.

Another attempt to push out the invasion, and then Dynast's fingers tightened in his hair. His Lord inhaled. Suddenly Xelloss couldn't help but cry out, had to, had to voice the struggle, had to give sound to everything inside him that rebelled--

Dynast sucked in a long breath and took out a bit of that rebellious energy.

Xelloss didn't have time to react, couldn't even properly sort out his scrambling thoughts as his master exhaled into him again, easing in His energy, and inhaled to take Zelas's away. In, out. In, out. Slowly, carefully, methodically.

The servant couldn't even ball up the sheets anymore. There was no room for struggle, he couldn't control his cries. His Lord was commanding those protests just as easily as he was commanding everything else that was Xelloss. With each breath in that the Lord took, Xelloss tangibly felt his master's command to cry out.

He obeyed.

Dynast slowed his breaths as he felt his servant's panic take a more severe edge that he didn't like. He slowed the pace, dragged it...finally came to a stop, and pulled away.

Cold air stroked Xelloss' lips, and the servant felt a relief that almost inspired prayer. He lay there for a few moments and just breathed. Pure, untainted air. Cold. Clean.

Dynast watched the servant's chest rise and fall. Then, Xelloss began to curl onto his side, his arms and knees tucking in. Before the King could say anything about it, Xelloss' lips parted and uttered a sound. A whimper. A sob. A choke. The servant curled tighter, balled his fists in front of his face, and coughed up a series of sobs.

_...He's sick._ Dynast didn't know how the treatment would affect Xelloss astrally. Mentally...he was infusing obedience, bit by bit. The hard way. But Xelloss' actual health -- it was real for Xelloss, wasn't it? And in some place, where Xelloss wasn't dreaming but was in fact existing, this was hurting him.

...Dynast smiled. He liked that. He watched Xelloss wrap his arms around his own chest and cringe. He tasted pain with that cringe. Xelloss' chest hurt. His ribs hurt. His poor back hurt most of all. His dream body and his astral body couldn't agree if the knife had left a wound or not. They couldn't even agree which was the true body, for that matter. The priest let out another whimper.

The King opened his lips to give another order, then decided against. Xelloss was barely conscious at this point. There was the chance that he couldn't even hear his King. No sense in testing him if it was meaningless.

He would save it for when it counted.

Instead he gathered Xelloss up and into his arms, giving his poor priest his shoulder to lean into. Xelloss's cheek rubbed against the fabric of Dynast's cloak. He murmured something incomprehensible, and then Dynast felt him pass out and fall against him.

...Which meant that where he _actually_ was, he was _waking up_.

It was Lafitte under him now, not against him, moaning like he'd never had a protest in the first place. Dynast could feel the _surinni_ begin to gain a little more awareness. A little more sanity, now that he wasn't just a ladder to Xelloss. But that was fine too. Now he could just be something to warm Dynast's bed. Like a good pet.

Xelloss woke up and _clung_. He wasn't sure what to at first. He needed something to cling to, he needed an anchor, he needed something to remind him that he was _awake_. Something solid. Something that ohpleasegodsanddemons _wasn't Dynast_. His mind was a field of terror and fuzz and no thoughts, no coherencies. He could be clinging to Dynast right now in his attempt to flee him. He didn't know. He didn't care. He was _SO SCARED._ He shook so bad that his fingers almost slipped away from whatever, or whoever, he'd grabbed on to.

It took him quite some time indeed to realize that he was in Firia's arms. He drew back, vision barely focusing. _Too weak to see. Too weak too...cold...nnh--_ He fell into her after his vision blurred into nothing, leaning into her shoulder. Like into Dynast. Except...no, that wasn't real. Please, let that _not be real_.

...Firia. Firia. He heard himself moan the name into her shoulder. He felt her hand against his cheek, her lips follow it. Her embrace. Completely lacking any ulterior motive. Just comfort. Just...food.

So hungry. And there was pain in her to eat. He was too hungry to think of any way that could be bad. He buried his head into her shoulder and wept. So tired. So damn hungry. _Thank you. Thank you, thank you--_

_--you're welcome._

Xelloss stiffened for a moment. How could Firia say it that way. Telepathy. What...how was she..how did he...where was he? Senses blacked out. Barely awake. No Dynast. No Dynast here. Please _please_. He mentally scanned. His mind flailed out. Who was here _who was here_--

His fingers tensed into Firia's shoulder. HOW--he was _surinnar_. That was it.

..._How the hell did that happen_?

But it didn't matter to Xelloss. He was already untensing. SAFE. _SAFE_. _Surinnar_ and he was safe. From. Dynast.

He began to cry.


End file.
